Flicker
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: [Drabble] It's ironic that Raph is the one to head out alone all the time, but it's Leo, following him to protect him, that finds the trouble. One night, one mistake, one possibility, one candle.
1. Flicker

_Flicker_

By Kay

Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT. Peter Laird, if you see fit to have mercy, please give it to me. I'd treat it good. Real good.

Author's Notes: Drabble in any turtle-verse, really. Angst-ridden and bloody, just the way I like it. I needed to get some Raph and Leo freakage out of my system before I finished the next chapter of _Lockdown_. Hope it's not overly dramatic. Er. Which I know it is. Overly dramatic, I mean. Shameless indulgence for the win! Right? Right?

That's what I thought.

* * *

It takes Leo six times before he can grip the matchbox properly. His hands are weak; his fingers slick and shaking. He pulls out a match and scrapes it alongside the bottom of the box.

It breaks. Another. The same story. He lets their splintered fragments fall to the floor of his bedroom. Unnecessary. Pathetic. He can't even light a candle. It's a disgrace to have gotten this low.

The flare of light finally comes, making Leo cringe away from the brightness of the sheen of red covering his legs. He takes care not to drop this one, though, and holds it to the wick of the candle. Waits for it to catch hold. It must be hours before it does. His leg is throbbing. No; his entire body. One big sore mess. Tendons burning. Donny's going to kill him tomorrow for being stupid enough to go sloughing around in the sewers with an open wound.

It _had_ been pretty stupid. Leo wonders what he'd been thinking.

Lean against the wall. Catch his breath. His chest is heaving. If he's not bleeding, he's sweating, and if he's not sweating then he's aching. The Purple Dragons. Stupider, really, more so than the lack of care to the wound is getting the wound in the first place. Looking for Raph. A brother who doesn't even want to be found.

Leo clumsily drags a piece of his bedding off of the bed beside him. Tries to press it against the ragged mess of his thigh. The skin is trembling. Is he cold? The blood feels hot, though. Some of it's black, some of it's red. He wonders what makes the difference. Donny would probably know.

The ceiling looks very much like Leo's ceiling always has. He's spent a lot of time looking at it. The shadows converge like they are waiting to swallow him whole and he closes his eyes.

He doesn't open them until Raph jerks him up roughly, shaking him. "Leo! Wake the _hell_ up! _Leo_!"

He opens his eyes. It's a struggle because it feels like his face is weighed down with lead, sluggish and unresponsive. In front of him in the dying candlelight, Raph's face is half-frenzied madness and shadow and fear, and the other half is anger burning brighter than any flame. Leo reaches out to touch it, mesmerized, and is surprised when Raph catches his wrist and yanks it to his own chest.

"You call _me_ psycho," Raph snaps, squeezing until Leo's bones shift uncomfortably in their places. "You call me psycho and—damn it, Leo, you lookin' around?"

Leo attempts to do so, but it's like moving underwater. "Looks fine," he says, throat dry.

"You call this fine?! You smeared blood all over th' walls, you… _fuck_!" Raph's other hand is everywhere, checking his throat, pressing into his pulse, his forehead where the chilled sweat has gathered, the sticky bed sheet still firmly wrapped partly around Leo's thigh. It peels away with a sickening squelch and Raph's face is very pale, too much so, eyes too wide and teeth bared like he's going to bite someone, but it's not a face Leo recognizes very well and so he's not sure.

Leo studies it tiredly.

"What happened?" Low, dangerous, more familiar. Raph pushing into the wound, but Leo can't even feel it. He wonders if he needs to change the candle, it must be getting low. "Leo! Listen t'me, nutjob, how long you been like this? How _long_, Leo?"

Leo shrugs, or at least tries to. "S'okay," he mumbles, patting the wall behind him because he's not entirely sure it's there. "Donny'll fix it later…"

"_Donny_! Master Splinter! _Somebody_!"

"Shh," Leo says, "don' wake everyone up. Tha's bad."

"I'm gonna kick your ass when this is over," Raph hisses. He doesn't look like he's in good shape. He calls again for his family. Leo imagines footsteps, or maybe they're actually there, he doesn't know.

It feels kind of nice, Raph being… nice like this. Trying to keep the bed sheet on the hole, mopping up the blood, the scent cloying and thick in Leo's throat. The other hand now clutching Leo's shoulder like Raph is afraid his brother might fall if he doesn't. It's… yeah.

Leo will find a good word for it. Later.

"Don' worry, Raph," Leo mumbles. "Can take care… of m'self."

"You loony," Raph rasps, voice hoarse with something indefinable. "If this is what you call takin' care of yourself, I—"

"Take care of m'self… take care of you," Leo says.

"Kill you later," Raph tells him. His fingers, fierce around Leo's shoulder, squeeze tighter. Leo can just barely feel them there. He likes the look on Raph's face. It's not anger, but something very close. If they weren't safe at home, if he hadn't already looked in on every one of them—earlier, before, red fingerprints on the wall, tomorrow he'll clean them, tomorrow—he'd be worried, but they're all here and so is Raph now, safe and dry and warm where his breath skitters across Leo's face—

"Leo, stay awake. _Donny! Get the hell in here now_!"

Leo can't think of anything else to say. He leans forward until his forehead hits Raph's plastron. Inhales. Exhales. Closes his eyes; they feel like bruises in his skull. This isn't so bad.

"Leo! Fuck, Leo, don't you _dare_—don't you do that—bro, c'mon, _look_ at me or I swear I'll—c'mon, don't, please oh damn, _please_—"

It's okay. He can sleep right now, even with Raphie shouting in his ears and shaking him until his teeth click, even with all that. Sink into the black. His brother's got him right now.

Tomorrow, they'll pretend this never happened because tonight, Leo knows, tonight is just a flicker.

* * *

_The End_


	2. And Fade

_And Fade_

by Kay

Notes: This is the first sequel to "Flicker," there will be an alternate. (bows) Thank you very much for reading, guys! I always, always appreciate it! 3

* * *

The candle wax puddles with the blood, but they don't mix well together. Instead they fight for dominance on the cement floor and Leo's favorite meditation mat. Raph watches them for what seems like a long time, face blank. He's thinking, _'What a mess.'_

The blood is cold around his feet. Under his thighs.

It will be morning soon. He can already hear Master Splinter in the kitchen, making hot tea. Usually Leo would be in the dojo, finishing up the last of his kata, settling back into position gracefully and the light sheen of sweat the only evidence on him of his early exercises. Usually, Raph thinks, and then he exhales loudly just to hear something else besides the whistle of the kettle. He doesn't want to think about talking to their father. Not to anyone.

They don't have much time. More like, Raph thinks dully, they're all out. He just doesn't want to...

What a mess.

Leo's room is so cold. He wonders how his brother can stand it. What is he trying to prove, anyway? So what, maybe he's got mental discipline? They already know that. A guy can still have some goddamn heat in his room and be mentally disciplined or _whatever_ the fuck – whatever the reason, who knows, _Raph_ sure doesn't, doesn't understand anything Leo does or says because it never aligns right with his own actions – there's too much friction, the fire in Raph's voice and Leo's eyes like lakes and subtle shadows he doesn't want to name and all that fighting, all that stupid fighting, why they didn't ever – ever just _stop_, could've just stopped –

Don's door opens with a creak.

Raph shudders.

Leo's heavier when he's not moving. Raph tugs his brother closer to his chest, one arm looped down around his shoulders, the other under Leo's arm and touching the plastron. It's long dried. The blood. Chilly. He can't feel any movement. It's so stupid. It shouldn't be that quick. Raph's seen it that way – the abrupt flash of life leaving someone's eyes, like strings have been snapped, a puppet sack of flesh falling to pavement – but it's not _supposed_ to happen that way. Someone should have heard. Someone should've come in time.

It can't be just a few stuttered words, a flicker and then Leo almost smiling in his stillness. Raph's not supposed to be alone.

How's he ever going to tell their family?

_'Oh fuckin' hell... Leo. Leo's dead.'_

No.

The candle wax, very white. How long had Leo sat here in the dark, letting everything go? Stupid of him. So goddamn stupid. Raph wants to kill him for being such an idiot. Right after he cleans up the smeared fingerprints dotting the lair. Every door. Wait. Too late for that. Soon someone will notice. Too early yet, and Master Splinter hasn't come this way but – fuck, he'd forgotten. Raph numbly tightens his grip on his brother.

His fault. He'd been the one to leave first, slamming the door. Making Leo follow. Why did Leo _always_ have to follow? He's a leader, not – not Raph, who'd just wanted to go out and get some air, that's all. He can feel it now. Welling up his esophagus, something raw and overwhelming and broken. If he lets it out, Leo will be – it's over. It's _over_. He sits there in the dark and the morning is here and soon they'll notice and Leo's so cold and his skin feels wrong –

He's thinking all that and thinking about just last week, Leo laughing at him for not being able to concentrate during meditation, tapping Raph's head and saying it's too full, that smile, like – like Raph was being –

Someone drops something in the hallway and yelps, cursing. It sounds like Don. Raph's forgotten to lock the door. But that would've meant letting go and he can't do that.

As the patter of footsteps rushes through the lair, he buries his face in Leo's shoulder and just holds on, trying not to let the scream go, trying to stop shaking. Because if he does, it's going to hurt. If he does, he'll never stop being angry. Leo. Leo would know what to do right now. But Leo's not moving or breathing and Raph's going to kill him for ripping so much out of him, everything gone and just this hollow space inside now.

Leo's shell clicking against his plastron and the deadweight of everything. Raph inhales sharply against Leo's shoulder. Shudders. Hot trails down his face, the white noise tight in his throat – these sounds are for animals. He bites them back.

The door knob turns, voices louder.

_'What a mess.'_

He'd just wanted to go out and get some air, that's all.

* * *

_The End_


	3. And Fear

_And Fear_

By Kay

Notes: The alternate sequel to "Flicker," where Leo actually makes it. XD Is there going to be more? Doubtful. But who knows? Thank you so much again, guys!

* * *

They move him to the sofa, partly because Don needs the space to work and partly because not a single one of them can stand the stench of stale blood and burnt wax in Leo's bedroom. Mikey presses when Don says press, oddly intense in his concentration, and hands over what Don tersely asks for from the sprawled tools beside him. Don says things like, _'The bullet's still inside of him, there's too much blood so it has to be internal,'_ fingers digging into pulp, and, _'He's in hemorrhagic shock, Raph, can you elevate—yeah, good, that's it, like that… damn it, Leo!'_

Leo is more pale grey than green, a sickly shade that matches the dullness Raph had seen in his eyes before his older brother had passed out in his arms. He's too cold. Even his blood, smattered across Raph's plastron and legs in sticky trails, isn't warm anymore. It's funny. He'd called Leo a cold bastard tonight. Had it been tonight? It seems like so long ago. Yeah, it's hilarious.

Fuck.

Raph had just wanted some fresh air. That's all.

He'd come home and—okay, he'd been stupid. Raph had been ready to admit it, save some face. But the wall—even against the brown brickwork, the earth clay tones of his home, the maroon crusting to its surface had been obvious, and even if not, the smell, as familiar as a friend to Raph—the wall still needs a washing, tomorrow, it's going to need a washing. Leo's not going to be the one to do it. Typical. Always cleaning up Fearless Leader's messes. Always being the one to—

Fuck. His brother's life smeared over the walls. Like a talisman or something. Raph looks down at Leo and feels like the world is spinning, he's going to fall over 'cause he can't breathe. He's thinking about how he can barely remember what they'd fought about, how the candlelight flickering beneath Leo's door had been the only strange warning he'd been given, how _lucky_ they are Raph checked. Any later and Leo could've been gone. Still could. Isn't out of the woods yet. Woods. Sandlewood, cloying scent, is that what Leo'd been burning? Something to sleep to. He should go put out the damn candles before they accidentally burn the lair down. He's thinking all that and thinking about just last week, Leo laughing at him for not being able to concentrate during meditation, tapping Raph's head and saying it's too full, that smile, like—like Raph was being—

Don mutters while working, a solemn set to his jaw. He doesn't look up at them. Raph figures it's safer that way, considering how far Don's hand is in their older brother's thigh. Mikey tries to watch, but his eyes slide away towards the far corner of the living room every few moments, unable to stay too long on the makeshift operation of sorts. It's not the first time they've pulled a bullet, but it's never any easier. Never so long after the wound had been inflicted.

Master Splinter strokes Leo's head.

Raph feels like a stranger who hasn't deserved his own name. It's just as well because he can barely process it right now. He wonders, somewhat numbly, when he forgot Leo's, too.

* * *

Hours later. Feels like years. Raph takes the first watch even though they all know no one will sleep, not yet. He can hear Don shuffling in his lab, anxiously hovering because even without the bite of adrenaline, the will to bent to movements call is still pulsing in his ears. Mikey is sitting quietly with Master Splinter, pretending to sleep as their father wearily stays to soothe the nightmares he's sure will come. They all know it's Raph's fault. (This is what Raph is thinking now.) Nobody's saying it, that's all.

He watches Leo breathe and it feels good and awful at the same time.

It's not the first time he's done something stupid and another brother has paid for it. Raph is the champion of the big mistake. But they've never _died_ from it. (Leo won't, either.) He's abruptly sick at the thought of what he'll have to say when Leo wakes up. There's no way to… to fix things, Raph is best at breaking them or keeping them close, hoarding, no way to _apologize_ for shit like this. The real kicker is, even as he's crushing under the weight of all this stupid guilt, there's this idiot voice in the back of his head insisting it's not his fault, it's Leo's, because Leo should've kept a better eye on his own back. Shouldn't have followed Raph out in the first place.

He'd just wanted some _air_.

After a while, he puts his hand on Leo's shoulder. It's not as awkward as it could be. And it's reassuring, after all, to feel the steady beat of Leo's heart under his fingers. Makes his shoulders lose their tension, some of his muscles unwinding. Stomach stop churning. Leo, the steady rock. Their mountain. Normally he'd laugh.

He's not laughing.

And it occurs to him, stupid poetic nonsense, that if Leo's a mountain then maybe Raph's the river wearing him away year after year, but Raph pushes that thought away before it poisons him. Leo's alive. He isn't going to die. That's all. Simple things. Raph can handle that. He studies his brother while he sleeps deeply, but sees nothing hard in Leo, nothing that warrants the images Raph always places on him. He wonders if they were ever there at all.

What the hell is he going to say when Leo opens his eyes? Raph's never been a coward, but with a dizzying lurch he realizes he doesn't want to be here for that. He has no idea how to make it right.

Whatever. He shrugs the fear away, corrodes it before it can leech onto the anxiousness already apparent for Leo to recover. He'll deal with it. Somehow. They'll have a lot to talk about, not just about tonight.

For now, Raph keeps watch. Quiet, hand on Leo's shoulder to remind himself that he's not alone. Not yet.

* * *

When Leo wakes, he's on the sofa in the living room in the dark and Raph is staring tiredly at him from the armchair.

It seems surreal. For a moment, Leo thinks himself in a dream, some heightened reality supported by the weight of the silence and the glitter of his brother's eyes reflecting from the dim, amber glow of the lamp. Raph is still as stone, unreadable. When Leo blinks sluggishly at him, feeling like his eyelids are five pounds each, he doesn't move.

"Wha' happened?" His speak slurs only a little. Leo thinks about sitting up, but something about the dull ache permeating his entire body tells him it would be a bad idea. When Raph doesn't answer, he groans and began to pat at his thigh where the worst of the agony radiates. The bandages are rough and sticky. Warm sticky.

"We'll need to change 'em soon," Raph says. "Don't touch 'em."

Leo lets his exploration halt, too tired to continue. He can't feel his legs very well. He feels… drugged, cotton-headed. He glances over at the coffee table, searching, and finds a bottle of painkillers Don must have left. "The mission?" he asks, clearing his throat.

Raph looks strange, then shakes his head. He shifts, and that's when Leo notices the gleam of metal in his lap. One sai, fingers still curled over it. "Everyone okay?" Leo asks when nothing seemed forthcoming.

Raph makes as if to shake his head again, then hesitates as he changes his mind. "No," he mutters.

"What?" Leo sits up quickly, but it's a mistake. The flare of pain up his torso takes the breath right out of him. He fallss back, clutching the blankets, cutting off a weak cry before it escapes and not entirely succeeding. Raph is at his side in the next second, pushing Leo down to the cushions angrily.

"What the fuck, Leo?! You _wanna_ ruin the sofa? You gotta hole in your leg the size of Jersey, you stay down or I'll _tie_ you down!"

"Where's Don?" Leo gasps, ignoring the shaking of his limbs as the pain recedes to an ache again. His heart pounded. "M-Mikey? Who was hurt?"

Raph glares at him for a moment. "Are you _stupid_ or somethin' now?" he asks roughly, disbelieving. "I was talkin' about _you_, Leo."

Relief, quicksilver and cool in his veins. Leo closes his eyes, exhaling heavily. "Oh," he says faintly. "That's good."

Silence.

"Whatever," Raph finally says, low. "I'm gonna go get Donny."

Leo murmurs what he hopes sounds like an affirmative. He doesn't hear anything else after that, but he feels fingers brushing over his head, fleeting but comforting, before sleep claims him once more. He suddenly remembers, somewhat vaguely as he drifts off, that there hadn't been a mission at all. But it doesn't matter. Tomorrow he can tell Raph it's okay, no one needs to apologize, drag things out messily. He knows. He gets it. He can listen to what Raph doesn't say, after all.

But they'll have a lot to talk about and that, maybe, will be okay.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
